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Why NOT to go on a lemon diet

So, the other day, my friend got jumped at the Waffle House. I’ve been meaning to tell you this story for awhile, especially since it was all I could talk about for a week and a half after it happened.

We were at the Waffle House, just enjoying ourselves. I’m so famous at the WH that they put my photo on the wall. I always bring different friends, and I tip very well, guilting everyone with me to tip well, too. After two hours of laughing and joking with the waitress (we maybe got a little rowdy, but hey, it’s just Waffle House), we tipped the waitress $30 between the four of us.

We were leaving the restaurant, making our 20-foot walk to the car, when a guy ran out after us, yelling about us leaving a message. Specifically, he yelled,

Hey Fat-ass! How dare you leave a mess on the table for that waitress. She works a minimum wage job, and she doesn’t want to clean up after your fat self.

This guy then jumped up to put his arm around my friend’s neck — my friend is about 2 feet taller than this crackpot — and proceeded to try and punch my friend in the face while hanging off of him in a failed headlock. After a few lame swings, he jumped down, straightened his shirt, spat at our feet, and went back inside.

We called 911. This guy, about 19 years old, has since been arrested for two counts of assault (spitting and cussing) and one of battery (failed head-punches). We’re all going to court — me, my friend, this guy, his girlfriend (who was in the WF with him), the waitress, our two friends who were with us, the two cops, and maybe the pot-heads who stood watching in the parking lot as all this went down.

Oh, I almost forgot the best part. After assaulting my friend and going back inside, Crazy Guy collected his girlfriend, paid his bill, got in his car with her, and drove away. Once the cops found him and took his information, he probably knew he was in deep poop. While we stood in the parking lot filing our report with the officers, Crazy Guy drove up, got out, and asked to apologize.

My friend, less of a fly-off-the-handle type than I am, replied that he had nothing to say to his assailant. As the awkward silence grew, my anger that this dude had violated my sense of safety at my favorite place to eat cheap breakfast food and attempted to hurt my friend for no reason grew. So I blurted out, “ARE YOU ON DRUGS??”

And the guy answered (get ready, this is epic):

Yes. My fiance and I have been doing some stuff to try to lose weight for our wedding. We’ve been on a lemon juice only diet. This is the first solid food we’ve had in three weeks.

To my surprise, they did not arrest him on the spot and drug test him. Apparently there’s this stupid thing in this country called “due process.” So we filed the warrant at the magistrate’s office downtown, and Crazy Guy was arrested later at his on-campus dorm room. I saw his girlfriend today at school.

I wanted to call out, “Hey, aren’t you the Crazy’s bride-to-be? I’ll see you in court, baby!”